Relying on Friendship
by linglangxpsu
Summary: This is my first fanfic but I thought it would be really interesting to see what April's diagnosis is like for Beth, as the ever-supportive best friend. How does she stay so strong and set the standard so high for a best friend, and how will she respond when tragedy hits? Note: I don't own Chasing Life or its characters, I just like playing with them.
1. Chapter 1

Time: post 1x21

"Hi, my name is Beth and my best friend has AML. From the moment April admitted to me she was sick, I felt like I was at a loss for what to do and how to help. We had only met a few years earlier, right when she graduated from Vassar and I moved to the States, because we were the same age and both newbies at the coffee shop. But in those few years, the Carver family had become my family and I couldn't imagine my life without them. Without Sara and Emma, who were my pseudo-mom and –grandmom and always welcomed me into their home. Without the feisty Brenna, who I could tell had a hard time figuring out how to handle it when her dad died just as she was realizing that she didn't want the same life path as her 'perfect' older sister. But most of all, without April. April, who didn't expect an ounce of sympathy from me when I realized that she gave up a dream internship in New York to move home with her grandmother, mom, and sister and work in a Boston coffee shop after her dad died. April, who was the most focused and driven person I had ever met. April, who welcomed me with open arms when I didn't know a soul in the States. April, who helped me understand what it meant to stick around through the hard times instead of bolting the country when things got difficult or stopped being exciting. April, who I considered more than my best friend but my sister."

"So when I heard her say the words "I have leukemia," and then continue to tell me that she couldn't tell her family because they wouldn't be able to handle the news, I felt like there was nothing for me to do but sit there and cry, and tell her "You can't die!" And because she's April and she takes care of people, there was nothing for her to do but jump up to comfort me. At first I completely freaked out and tried to protect her, but after a few days it was pretty clear that I was suffocating her and not really helping. So I backed off—tried to switch gears and play the 'supporting friend' role. That was especially tough the first few weeks before she even told her whole family, and then when we were preparing for her first round of chemo. But we got through four months of treatment and then she was in remission and we actually had a few months when we were both normal 20-somethings with increasingly demanding jobs. It was hard because our relationship changed so much when she got sick and then it kind of felt like our lives were pulling farther and farther apart, but the bond because of what we went through really held us together even when we fought. She's the best friend I've ever had and ever will have, no matter what happens."

"But then about a week ago, April found out she relapsed. And it's a lot more aggressive this time, which really scares me. We got 24 final hours of normalcy, and now she's back in the hospital doing the whole chemo process all over again. In the past few days I've spent more time at her bedside in the oncology ward than I've spent 'on the outside.' Last time she had chemo I was unemployed thanks to a reality check from April to 'set goals for yourself, take some risks to achieve them, and do it sooner rather than later because the future is totally uncertain.' This time I do have a job and the future is even more uncertain, so I basically decided to take a risk by ignoring my boss as much as possible. I've been there while she was feeling good and wanted to find me a boyfriend or even write a freelance article for the paper. I've sat there just holding her hand or snuggled while she napped peacefully. I've jumped up to push her IV pole and guide her on the walk to the bathroom when she started feeling nauseous and throwing up. I've had sleepovers regularly interrupted by beeping machines and nurses who kept coming in to draw blood, give blood, or make her take even more pills. Last time I cut and styled my best friend's ever-thinning hair and marveled in amazement when her newly shaved head made her look even more determined, and this time I was so so proud of her for embracing the bald right from the beginning. I still feel like I'm being punched in the gut every time I walk into her room and see her lying there alone and feeling weak, but I put on my best "supportive best friend" face, crack a joke and ask if she's ready for some fun, and bring out another movie/trashy reality TV show/board game to keep us entertained for the next few hours, often accompanied by a new scarf or beanie. I am regularly amazed and inspired by how often she refuses assistance, the insistence with which she says "I'm gonna be fine," her desire to go for a walk (however short) even when she is weak enough to actually admit it, and above all the fact that she refuses to give up her duties as the big sister. I just love that girl so much, and I-I can't possibly imagine my life without her. She's gotten better at accepting it, but every time she starts talking about the possibility I—" My voice finally cracks, and suddenly I realize how long I've been talking and snap out of my daze.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sure you don't all want to hear me go on about her like this and you really don't want to watch me cry. This is a support group for family members and I'm just a friend. I just needed somebody to talk to who would understand, and the only people I have are…well the only people I'm close to here in Boston are April's family. So… I'm gonna go check on April now. Thanks for listening."

I was leaving the multi-purpose room and on my way to the elevators when I heard "Wait!" from a girl who looked to be about Brenna's age, running to catch up. "Hi, my name is Katie and well…I'm like you. Technically a friend, but always felt like more of a family member. Um, do you need to go see April right now, or do you have a few more minutes to talk with me?"

I'm not really in the mood to keep talking after already spilling so much, but this girl seems nice and Brenna's supposed to be there tonight so it's not like April will be alone and anyway, I'm still crying and there is NO WAY I'm letting April see me this way. "Sure, I can talk for a few." We find a couch in the reception area to sit down, and I text Brenna to let them know I'll be upstairs later.


	2. Chapter 2

"Thanks," she says, "So, um…I just heard your story, so I guess it's my turn to tell you mine. My name is Katie, and I'm 17. In Kindergarten I met my best friend Steph, and we hit it off immediately. We were both such goofy kids, willing to laugh at pretty much everything. We always had a great time together throughout elementary school. Then in 5th grade Steph started getting really bad headaches that just wouldn't go away. Eventually she was diagnosed with a brain tumor and she had surgery in April when her surgeon removed a tumor half the size of his fist. After running a few more tests, her doctors determined that she had a rare and aggressive form of brain cancer, so in May she started chemo. We were only 11, but I was there almost every day after school. We danced (well, usually I danced while she laughed at me), we watched a whole lot of Spongebob, and we made ridiculous home videos that to this day make me laugh out loud. Because she didn't have any brothers or sisters, my older sister and I basically became Steph's sisters."

"So anyway through the years she had a bunch of rounds of chemo, of radiation, and another surgery. She lost most of her vision and some of her hearing, and all the steroids she was on made her look and feel 'puffy.' She didn't usually make it to school, so it was hard for her to hold on to many friends from elementary school when their lives became so much different from hers. But I never left. Our biggest test started mid-February of 8th grade. Steph had a few progressively worse days so her parents took her in to the hospital. After keeping her for a few days, the doctors decided there was nothing more they could do so they took her off all treatment and sent her home on hospice. Obviously I had known it was a possibility for years, but my friend had never been that close to death and I had never wanted to believe it. Steph was so silly, so spunky, so positive for all of us. I went to her house for a visit and brought her an outlandish new hat because those had always been her favorites. She laid there and kept squeezing my hand and I started to believe maybe she would stick around. By the end of the month, she had started to speak again and she announced "I love Katie, she's my favorite." For a while, she just kept getting better. We would wheel her around the house for a change of scenery, my older sister would make adventurous meals that Steph was always game to try, and as always, the two of us did a lot of laughing. But then in late July, things kind of went downhill quickly and she passed away the evening of August 15. Now obviously, I had been preparing for that for years, but especially the final six months. But it still felt like a nightmare and nothing seemed real. I gave her eulogy on the 18th and honestly writing that speech was the hardest thing I think I will ever have to do. But see my necklace here," as she motioned to a pendant with a touch of blue, "this is Steph. I will never be without her. It's been almost three years now, for me, and I've been home around people who know the story and will let me talk if I need to. I'm still really close with her family and they've been great to me. But I graduate in a year so I need to start figuring out where to go for college. So I'm here in Boston looking at BU and BC and I decided to check out Mass Medical's support groups to know that if I come here and need to talk, I can find somebody. So anyway, that's me and that's my story and Steph's story and um…yeah thanks for listening."

I can't stop looking at this girl. Watched her best friend go through chemo at 11? Gave her eulogy at what, 14? I'm 23 and I wanted to freak out the first time I saw April have a nose bleed! _Ok Beth, pull yourself together._ "Wow I'm just…thanks for sharing all that. I'm really impressed by how grown up you seem about it and—" Suddenly I notice my phone buzzing so I look down, feel my heart beat faster as my mind begins racing. "Sorry I really need to, I want to keep talking but I, um, I have to go…"

The elevator ride seems to take forever and my mind is racing a mile a minute as I try to pull myself together. All I need to know was in Brenna's text: " **icu. now.** "


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I apologize if some of my medical information is somewhat off. I tried to loosely base this off leukemia stories I know, but I might have gotten some stuff wrong. Thank you everybody for reading my story, this is so exciting!**

* * *

I find her in the ICU reception area, pacing and looking like she is either about to cry or scream. "Bren! Bren _what_ is going on? Is April—"

"I don't know Beth. I don't know what's happening. I was talking about school and she was just listening and then she kind of faded off so I thought she fell asleep but her breaths were super shallow and she looked even paler and felt clammy and there was this line of sweat on her forehead so I checked and it seemed like she had a fever so I called for the nurse and then all of a sudden all these people were in her room and they wheeled her down here but now I don't even know where she _is_ and nobody was telling me anything and I'm…I'm just so scared."

"Okay, okay Bren. Hey, look at me I'll find out what's up we can get somebody to talk to us." I grab the first nurse I see who doesn't look like she's running somewhere. "Excuse me but _where_ is April Carver and why won't anybody tell us what's going on? We're her sisters and we are very concerned."

The nurse sighed heavily. She hated this part. "Now I haven't seen April, but I know that she was just taken down here because she was showing signs of sepsis. That can happen a few days after a round of chemo, and as I understand this is her first week on observation after a week of induction therapy?" Brenna and I nod warily to confirm.

"Ok so sepsis is serious because it can quickly turn into organ failure and septic shock. It occurs when there is an infection the immune system can't handle. As I'm sure you two are aware, with leukemia a patient's immune systems are incredibly compromised so infections are a _very_ big deal, and unfortunately infections are more common in people who have a catheter like April. April is currently in the ICU being taken care of. We are giving her fluids and taking tests to determine what else needs to be done. Just sit tight for now, we will keep you updated if something changes."

"Can we see her?" Wow. Brenna got to the question before me. I was shocked at how maturely she seemed to be handling the news, especially since I felt like I was underwater. Maybe today wasn't the best day to finally spill—life was starting to catch up to me.

"Unfortunately we are restricting visitors because of April's compromised immune system. The last thing any of us want is for her to catch any more germs."

"But—I need her to know I didn't abandon her. I need to squeeze her hand, rub her back…"

"If you wish, her room has a glass wall so that you can see her. But while she is in the ICU, no visitors. I'm very sorry, girls."

Finally, I find my voice. "Can you point us in the right direction? W-we need to see her."

"Of course, through those doors make the first left then her room should be on your right. Careful, that's a busy hallway."

And we're off. We both know that we can't let April down here alone. And then…we see her.


	4. Chapter 4

The lump in my throat gets even bigger when we stop in front of April's room. Brenna was right. I thought April looked pale a few days ago but she was practically tan then compared to what she looks like now. The sight of her once-again bald head against the pillows and the way her whole body seems to shake with every labored breath nearly reduces me to tears. And Brenna, well, I'm starting to think she's in shock because she barely reacts.

We stand there, me leaning against the wall and holding Brenna while she leans against me, for what feels like hours. Brenna calls her mom, so Sara and Emma come to join us (though they lay claim to a few chairs for the night). Unfortunately Leo had to go to some required event with his family, and can't get a plane ride back yet due to a freakishly early snowstorm. But even Natalie shows up when she gets off her shift from work, and holds on to Brenna to give me a break from being the pseudo-older sister. We see Dr. Hamburg come in to check on April, we see nurses draw even more blood to be tested, we see them attach even more wires and plastic tubing to her body and hang more bags of fluids on her IV pole. She is still unconscious, so they decide to give her a breathing tube. Despite Sara's insistence, I call my boss and call out of a meeting the next morning to keep watch through the night. I will not abandon April or her family.

All night I just keep looking around at these people I was lucky enough to consider my family. Together they took me in as one of them, and I don't know how to live without them anymore. After being raised by a single mother, the two of us spending our lives traveling all over to explore the world, the Carvers had managed to turn me into a homebody with a steady job with responsibilities. They gave me a reliable home in a way I had never before experienced it. And as much as I love my mom and appreciate the diverse and flexible life she gave me, there is something to be said for reliability.

That's why April being sick is so hard for me—finally I have this life where I can count on some things being constant, but then cancer comes along and suddenly the only thing you can predict is that things will be unpredictable. I was exhausted and terrified because of it—and I was supposed to be the one who was _good_ with change. I just wanted to take each one of the Carvers into my arms and hug them so it didn't feel quite so much like we were all falling apart, but I was so scared of bringing on an emotional meltdown that I didn't dare. I just stuck to staring at April through the window, thinking of happier memories and willing her to wake up so we could make just one more.

I thought back to the pre-funeral we went to for her support group friend Jackson back before she started chemo the first time. His friend talked about how he would miss the little things: watching a crappy tv show together every Monday night and laughing harder during that one hour a week than any other time. I thought about Katie's story of helping her friend Steph through cancer using dancing, Spongebob, and home videos. And I even though I'm not very religious, I prayed that when someday I tell my story of when my best friend had cancer, she will be there telling it with me. I admire those two for the way they helped their friends feel normal despite cancer because I'm trying to do the same exact thing, but I admire their courage and bravery in telling their stories even more. I don't know if I can do it without April—she keeps me focused and realistic in all the best ways.

The next morning we were tired, but all still in the waiting room. Hamburg returns and tells us that making it through the night was a very good sign, but April was still unconscious and definitely not in the clear yet. Her kidneys were being overworked and weren't able to release all of the toxins. So… her best option was a one-time dialysis treatment to give the kidneys a break. The only problem? April had to be conscious and awake enough to consent to the procedure because it was technically optional.

Upon hearing that, Brenna seemed to be snapped out of her stupor. "Let me go in," she announced. "I'll bet I can wake her up."

"I'll go with you Bren," I hear myself saying, "You don't have to do that alone."

Surprisingly, amazingly, Hamburg agrees. I was too excited to worry that they were suddenly no longer scared of April getting another infection.


	5. Chapter 5

We're given scrubs and face masks to put on, and Brenna leads the way into the room.

"Hi Ape, you're looking good."  
"Hey dude, welcome to the new day. We're right here, been standing outside all night keeping an eye on you."

Brenna and I grab chairs on opposite sides of April's bed, each grabbing a hand so she can feel our presence. We look at each other and smile upon noticing that she doesn't feel feverish anymore. Like Hamburg said, we're making steps in the right direction but April still has a long way to go.

Brenna goes first and starts talking about their childhood and stories with their dad. As intrigued as I am—I never asked much about their dad and would like to know more about him—my mind wandered and I started thinking about my own memories and what I wanted April to know.

"Hey Ape, remember my first winter in Boston? I had lived all over the world, 4 different continents and about a dozen countries, but I was woefully unprepared for a Boston snowstorm. I didn't have snowboots or a parka, god I don't even think I had gloves. I was a mess when in the middle of our shift at the coffee shop it started to snow and I didn't know how I would get home. So you, you lent me your sweater, hat, and gloves and then together we went as quickly as we could to the nearest T stop. And I went home to your house that weekend, we got completely snowed in. That was the first time I met your family and stayed in your house overnight. I fell in love with the Carvers that weekend, I know it. Thanks for dealing with me, babe. You're—you're my favorite."

I have to pause for a minute to catch my breath because thinking back to that weekend at the Carver household put me to tears.

"How bout this, remember you and the pot cookie? God I love seeing you like that—so carefree and open. Of course, I love you for being you with all your compulsions but wow High April is something else. She was delightfully fun and just so stress free. Babe, my wish for you is that you feel some of High April's peace. You deserve to calm down, ok dude?"

"Ok Ape, one more memory. The day my life changed: the day you told me you had leukemia. I know, probably not the day you expected me to talk about here, but come on we have to mention it I mean look where we are. Remember what you said? I do: 'You know my mom, she's finally dating again, and if I throw this at her now she'll just fall apart. Oh I can't tell anyone at work. Lawrence finally gave me a _huge_ assignment and he'll just—he'll replace me with someone who doesn't have leukemia. And Dominic and I just started dating. What am I gonna say? 'Happy second date, I have cancer!' I mean Beth, literally the only person in my life who can handle this, is you.' I remember, Ape. I remember every word because I don't think I truly realized until that moment just how much you tried to take care of everybody in your life. And then Ape, you were the one to comfort me about the idea of you dying. And more than anything, that scared me. I think it was because I believed you, I believed that nobody else could handle your news and that I would have to deal with everything all on my own and then you would leave and I wouldn't have anybody. I didn't know if I could handle it either. But now, I hope you know how many people you have in your corner who have risen to the occasion and _can_ handle it, and are supporting both you and each other. Brenna and I are right here, and Natalie, your mom, and your grandma are right outside. You don't have to be SuperGirl, you just have to be April. Be strong-willed, be stubborn, be quirky. But don't be scared to ask for help. We're all happy to give it to you—lord knows you've helped all of us plenty of times, and needing an extra hand doesn't make you weak. April I will love you for your personality and your dedication no matter what happens. I love watching House Hunters with you and criticizing the homeowners-to-be, I loved when we would laugh at my crazy ex-roommate Morgan, I love our boy talks while smashing fruit. Who else would do that with me? April please, I don't want to do this without you. We're all right here for you, you need to come see."

By the end of my speech, Brenna has reached out to grab my other hand so the three of us have formed a triangle. I don't even care that tears are streaming down my face as a result of all the emotions I've been bottling up for months and finally let loose. Brenna and I squeeze each other's hands and look expectantly at April. Waiting for what, I'm not sure. When suddenly, the beeping changes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:**

 **Hey everybody! Thanks to those of you who have read, favorited, followed, or reviewed my story, it means so much to me! Sorry this took so long-college got in the way. The end of the season prompted me to get writing again and now finding out that Chasing Life has been officially canceled is really forcing me to write more. I hope to get finish up this story and publish something that takes place right after the finale (from Beth's perspective, of course) in the next few weeks, so look forward to that! Chasing Life may be over (and I may never forgive ABC Family for it), but that just means we can decide the answers to their cliffhangers for ourselves :)**

A nurse comes rushing in and Brenna and I are about to really start freaking out. But then I feel a squeezing in my right hand and turn around to see April finally open her eyes. She looks at us questioningly and tries to talk, but isn't able to because of the breathing tube. We start to reassure her, but the nurse is all business:

"Don't try to talk. You were unconscious for over 12 hours and we were worried about your breathing patterns. We had to go through two surgeries to put more ports in, so we gave you a breathing tube to be safe. If everything goes well it should come out in a few hours. In the meantime, here is a pad and pen. Your doctor will be in shortly."

Brenna and I already knew this, but watching April start to learn what she just went through just about tears me apart. We can see the tears forming in her eyes and anxiety creeping into her face as she looks around at all the tubes and wires attached to her body and beeping machines surrounding her bed.

"Hey Ape, look at me," I begin and watch her slowly turn her head to look at me, while Brenna hurries around to my side of the bed so she can see us both at once, "It's gonna be ok. We're gonna get you through this, just like we've been doing for months, ok?"

"April we all love you so much, and we're right here, ok?"

Slowly April reaches for the paper and pen and begins weakly writing out "what happened"

Brenna looks paralyzed at the idea of having to talk to her big sister about this, so the job of trying to explain falls to me. "Um it's called sepsis, apparently it happens sometimes a few days after chemo, especially in people who have catheters. Essentially there was a blood infection that you obviously can't fight off because you're so immunocompromised. I guess your body started to shut down to try to fight the infection so…here we are. I don't understand all the details but that's pretty much how the nurses explained it to us. Hamburg will probably explain it better when she comes in but they said making it through the night was a really good sign and Ape, we are going to get you better."

She nods but seems pretty worn out, so Brenna and I both give April a careful squeeze before leaving the room. And that's when I really start to break down. Too much time spent holding it together for the family, I guess. After a quick conversation with Brenna and Natalie to make sure somebody will let me know if anything happens, I find myself going back upstairs to the multi-purpose room where the support group meeting was last night.

"Excuse me miss, can I help you with something?"

"Oh hi sorry I was just, um, thinking…do you know anything about the support groups that meet here?"

"Yes! My name is Jacquie and I actually coordinate the Mass Medical support system and events. Would you like to get more information about our support groups or join one?"

"Hi Jacquie, I'm Beth. I actually went to the group meeting for family members of people who have cancer yesterday evening, even though I'm technically just a friend. But anyway I met another girl there in a similar situation and we started talking but I had to run off after just a few minutes because there was an emergency with my friend. I was wondering if you could give me any tips on how to find her, or somebody else I can talk to in the same situation? I just need somebody to talk to who gets it, and it's really hard to be open with April's family sometimes because I don't know how much I'm allowed to complain to them."

"I'm so sorry to hear about your friend. How is she?"

"We made it through the night. The stress probably took a few years off my life, and she's very weak, but she's awake and fighting the infection so I guess things are looking up."

"That's good to hear. You learn to take pleasure in the small things around here. Well, do you know the name of the girl you talked to last night? Or anything about her story? Some people give us their information if they want to continue getting updates on groups they might want to join, and I can look through our database for you."

"Ah let me think…she's a high school student, probably a senior, here in Boston looking at colleges. Her name is Katie, and I think she said her friend's name is Steph. Steph got a brain tumor when they were finishing elementary school and then died a few years later, and Katie was really close with Steph and the whole family. I hope that's enough, the details aren't coming to me right now. It's been a long night."

"Of course Beth, I understand completely. Let's see what I can do with that… And here we go! Katie Alexander came to a meeting yesterday and said she might end up in Boston next year and wanted to be prepared. Sound about right?"

"Yes thank you! That has to be her!"

"Well I'm going to give you her email address. Good luck—to you and your friend."

"Thank you."

 _Hi Katie,_

 _This is Beth (the girl from the Mass Medical support group yesterday). A nurse helped me track down your email address! I'm so sorry for running out on our conversation yesterday, my friend suddenly had a complication from the chemo so I had to run to the ICU. She's doing a little bit better now, she woke up after about 12 hours and I think they're working on regaining some of her kidney function that the sepsis damaged. So anyway, if you're still in Boston I really would love to continue our conversation because I think this would be good for both of us to just talk. Let me know, and I hope you love the city!_

 _~Beth Kingston_


End file.
